Stars, in your -
by MMcIntyre
Summary: O'Neill and his weekend guest are doing some stargazing. Of course O'Neill knows his astronomy, and feels the need to point some things out, much to Javert's irritation. A brief, humourous Stargate/Les Mis crossover.


It was a late night at O'Neill's Montana cabin, and the stars were out in full force, the constellations of gleaming lights strewn across the pitch-black sky. "There's no light pollution here," he commented to his guest, who was sitting up quite straight in the chair next to his. "So it's all -" he waved his arms out to indicate the night sky - "perfectly visible."

"Yes, it is an excellent view, colonel." Said with absolutely no enthusiasm.

"There's no need to use ranks, we're pals here, eh? Let's just go with first names."

"Of course, uh, Jack." O'Neill's new guest wasn't used to such informality.

"And your first name is..." O'Neill stretched out the 'i' sound in 'is', his voice rising to form a question.

"I don't have one."

"Where were you born? Under a rock? Don't they have names in France?"

"Of course they have names in France. And I was born in a jail, actually."

There was a dead silence, the awkwardness almost palpable. Then Jack, always eloquent, stated, "That sucks."

"Yes, it sucks a big one." The inspector said this in such a deadpan way, and it contrasted his usual tone so much, that O'Neill had to restrain a laugh. "Just call me Javert. Everyone does anyway."

"Sure."

The pair sank into a comfortable silence as they both admired the view. Of course, Javert began to contemplate the awesomeness and might of the universe, each of these thousands of stars put into its place by a just god, each returning and returning to its appointed place, showing that the natural order of things was order and light...

_Squeak. Sq—eak._ O'Neill was fiddling with dials on his telescope, adjusting it to point and focus just right. _Well, how long could that take? _reasoned Javert. He decided to wait until Jack was done.

Apparently several minutes. Javert felt he should be patient with his host, but really, it shouldn't be that hard to adjust the _maudit_ telescope. "Could you please not do that? I'm trying to think."

"Sure, sure, sorry." Jack left the dials alone and simply peered through the lens for a time. But damn, he didn't have the whole constellation in his view, and if he shifted the telescope up maybe a few degrees, he'd have a perfect view of Orion. But he really didn't want to be rude, and – _oh, screw it._ He reached for the dial.

_Squeeeak._ "Have you considered getting some grease for that thing?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't want to go sort through the garage right now. I'll just wait until you're done appreciating the view to do my adjusting."

"Thank you."

A silence began to stretch on again. Jack began to fiddle with his watch, shift in his seat, tap his foot. The silence continued. _Jesus, how long will he take?_ Jack tried his hardest to be polite. After all, Javert was his guest... but just sitting there was sooo boring, especially for someone so used to excitement. Finally, he burst out, "Wha-cha thinkin' about?"

"Oh, not much." Javert didn't really want to share his thoughts, but he felt like he had to. "Just about the way the stars are so constant and eternal, never moved and never swayed."

"Well, y'know, not so much. According to the expanding universe theory, stars actually move a bit all the time, getting further and further from each other. In a few thousand years, the constellations will be completely unrecognizable. For example, the big dipper will be shaped like a hook. That is, if there are still people looking up at them." O'Neill cleared his throat. "Or so Carter tells me. She's the scientist."

"Uh-huh." Well, this changed Javert's thinking a little, which was an unusual occurrence indeed. "That is quite interesting, but -" he paused, distracted by a blaze of white light streaking across the sky. "Amazing, a falling star! Even stars can fall from grace, and they fall in flame – what a powerful sight!"

"Well, not so much a falling star as a falling rock. What looks like shooting stars to us is actually meteorites, bits of stone that exist in space. But yeah, it's pretty, huh?"

There was another silence.

"Well, that ruins a perfectly good song."

**AN:** I have no idea where this came from. Really. Originally, it was going to be Valjean pointing out the astronomy bits, but somehow it became O'Neill. And I have no idea how Javert ended up on O'Neill's deck in the late 1990s... just feel free to consider it a crack fic and shove it out of your mind. I know I will.


End file.
